most painful to me,' Edith said, with assumed solemnity.

He looked grave. 'Well, she needn't have quarrelled.'

'But isn't she very kind to you?'

'Yes, she isn't bad sometimes. I like it when she tells me lies about
what her husband used to do--I mean stories. She's not a bad sort.... Is
she a homeless refugette, Mother?'

'Not exactly that. She's a widow, and she's staying with us, and we must
be nice to her. Now, you won't forget again, will you?'

'Right. But I can mend it.'

'I think I'd better go up and see her,' said Edith.

Archie politely opened the door for his mother.

'I shouldn't, if I were you,' he said.

Edith slowly went back to the fire.

'Well, I'll leave her a little while, perhaps. Now do go and do
something useful.'

'What, useful? Gracious! I haven't got much more of my holidays,
Mother.'

'That's no reason why you should spend your time in worrying everybody,